


Improbable

by ZoS



Category: The Devil Wears Prada (2006)
Genre: Drabble, F/F, Sexual Fantasy, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-25
Updated: 2019-01-25
Packaged: 2019-10-16 03:59:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,548
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17542262
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZoS/pseuds/ZoS
Summary: Andy's mind can go many places, which is an important skill for a writer to have. Not so much in the middle of the work day, with Miranda Priestly as your boss.





	Improbable

**Author's Note:**

> **MeadowUndertown** wanted me to write a fantasy fic. This is me not listening to her.
> 
> Meet the Sachses update coming right up. In the meantime, this is just an idea I had to write down.
> 
> Fantasy parts are _italicized_.

**_FANTASY_ **  
**_[Noun • /ˈfæn.tə.si/]_ **

_The faculty or activity of imagining impossible or improbable things._

\---

Andy has always had a big and wild imagination--that's what makes her, in her opinion, a good writer. She can hear one word, see one image, meet a certain person and a story evolves in her head. Picture after picture, sentence after sentence, her creativity runs free.

It's a blessing and a curse.

As a writer, it serves her well and will continue to do so once she actually makes the leap into her coveted career. She'll hardly have to deal with writer's block and ideas will always be plentiful and flowing.

As Miranda Priestly's assistant, her talent is quite an inconvenience.

***

"Andrea."

With a Pavlovian instinct, Andy pushes her chair back, grabs her pad and pen, and hurries into Miranda's office, where the star of her dirtiest, most embarrassing dreams sits regally behind her desk, pristine legs crossed.

"I want to see the proofs from the Halloween shoot. Tell Arlene that if I see one model that looks like her puppy has been shot in front of her eyes, I'm dropping her agency and so will everyone else. For heaven's sake, it's supposed to be a happy holiday. And tell Michael that if he doesn't have his article ready by tomorrow morning, I don't want it. Then call _Le Bernardin_ and make a reservation for two tonight at 8--make sure the salmon is well-cooked this time because last time was most disappointing.

"Also, cancel my lunch with Anne. I've heard her complaints enough times. If she's unhappy with the ad space we're giving her, she can go somewhere else. I'd like a steak instead and have them add those potato slices that I liked-- _not_ peeled.

"Don't forget that the twins finish school early today so they'll need to be picked up and taken to the townhouse. Make sure Eileen is already there with their lunch prepared--they need to eat more vegetables. Cassidy likes her broccoli with cheese on it."

_Andy's wrist is beginning to cramp just as Miranda comes to a halt. Surprisingly, thankfully, she lets Andy scribble the last of her hurried notes before asking, "Are you finished?"_

_"Yes," Andy breathes out, nodding._

_Miranda motions for the door and Andy is an avid Miranda-reader that doesn't need to be told twice. She closes it and turns around in time for Miranda to curl her index finger at her. "Come here."_

_Then she's bent over Miranda's desk, her dress bunched up at her waist and her panties gone. Her heavy breathing fogs up the glass beneath her head as strong fingers move in and out of her at a leisurely pace, reaching and rubbing against spots that make her shudder._

_Miranda's lips travel up her back and then her hair is swept to one side and her neck is peppered with open-mouthed kisses that make her moan and push back. She needs more, more..._

_Miranda provides, rubbing her thumb against her clit and causing her whole body to arch against the desk. She lifts her ass up higher, giving Miranda a view she knows she'll like._

_"So wet," the whisper comes against her ear, warm and hypnotizing. So close..._

_"You're wet for me. Me alone and nobody else." It's a statement, not a question. Miranda gives a forceful shove with her fingers and Andy barely stops herself from crying out for the entire office to hear. "You're going to come for me."_

_And she does. She comes for Miranda--Miranda alone and nobody else._

"That's all."

Andy's eyes snap up to where Miranda isn't looking at her and her hand slips across the page, creating a blue line down the length of it.

Clearing her throat and clenching her thighs, she nods. "Yes, Miranda." Then turns on her heel and hurries to her desk.

***

The elevator _ding_ s, signaling its arrival, and Andy steps back, giving Miranda her privacy. Her finger is already hovering over the button again when Miranda looks up and jerks her head to the side, impatiently waiting for Andy to join her.

Shocked--and trying not to show--Andy does, settling quietly to her right. She knows that they're in a hurry, already running late (which will delay the rest of Miranda's day), and Miranda probably doesn't want her assistant dragging behind and wasting more precious time, but nevertheless, this is a privilege few--if any--ever get to experience.

The doors close and they're left with their reflections. And a charged silence.

Andy tries not to breathe too much because Miranda is most likely uncomfortable enough already. In the door's reflection, she sees Miranda's lips purse nonetheless.

_Then she's pressed against the wall, Miranda's hands on her hips and her lips stealing the breath from her lungs._

_While one hand ventures toward a silk (and beneath it lace) covered breast, the other slips underneath her dress and Andy bucks when Miranda cups her through her panties._

_She's wet already, which Miranda can definitely feel, and even though they don't have time, her fingers start rubbing across the lace and Andy groans into her mouth._

_When Miranda's lips leave hers in favor of her neck, her panties are pushed aside and then her fingers are parting her, caressing, dipping inside before massaging her clit._

_She can feel the pressure building, that delicious and torturous tingle in her lower belly. Just a little more, she just needs--_

_Ping_. Miranda leaves her side, stepping out of the elevator, and when Andy doesn't follow immediately, she turns around and gives her an impatient glare.

Blinking, Andy does as told.

***

"...and that jumpsuit was atrocious. What was he thinking? This isn't the '70s anymore."

Andy nods mutely and takes notes, trying to keep her hands steady despite the car's movement.

"Remind Nigel to talk to him. This is just unacceptable. Utterly unacceptable," Miranda murmurs. She pauses, then resumes her instructions, "I didn't like the lighting in the Halloween photoshoot--see what the art department can do to fix it. Talk to Ellen, she's the most competent one there, and call Irv's secretary and make up some excuse for me not being able to sit down with him--he wants to talk about the budget again; _and now spread your legs for me."_

_Andy looks up from her notes and her mouth goes dry at the predatory look in Miranda's eyes. She's ready to feast and Andy is more than happy to be her meal._

_It's a matter of seconds for her to slide to the edge of the backseat and part her legs, and then Miranda--no way--is on her knees before her, grasping the tops of her thighs and opening them wider._

_Andy has to maintain enough control to hold her dress up while Miranda's mouth works its wonders on her pussy. She eats her hungrily, drawing her clit into her mouth and sucking until Andy has to bite her fist to keep from shrieking, and then releasing it to slide her tongue into Andy as far as it will go._

_Andy's inner walls grip it tightly while she quivers and whines, moving against Miranda's wicked mouth in search of release. Miranda's fingers dig into her backside while she thrusts her tongue in and out, and just when Andy is about to lose it, she returns her attention to her clit, pushing back the hood and licking the nub directly._

_Andy doesn't care about the driver. She screams._

"...and don't forget to pick Patricia up from the groomers tomorrow," Miranda finishes just as the car pulls up in front of _Elias-Clarke_.

Andy remains in her seat a few moments after Miranda has gotten out, trying to catch her breath.

***

Andy is glad Miranda is finally leaving for the day. _She_ won't be able to go home for several hours more, tasked with waiting for the Book and then delivering it and dry cleaning to the townhouse, where Miranda hopefully won't make another appearance, but she's already fantasizing about crawling into bed and... taking care of herself.

She's good at fantasizing, it seems. At least one fantasy will come true tonight, so long as she has a say in it.

With a deep breath, she rounds her desk and enters Miranda's office, where her unattainable boss is sitting behind her desk, typing away on her laptop.

"Miranda, I finally got a hold of Michael and he says he'll have the article ready for you first thing tomorrow. _Le Bernardin_ will have your salmon just the way you want it and they said that the chef would like to select your meal for you--if you're okay with it--to make up for last time.

"Nigel talked to John and he said you have nothing to worry about--it's all taken care of. And Ellen also said that everything will be okay and she'll fix the photos."

"Good," Miranda states, closing her laptop.

Andy nods, preparing for the dismissive "That's all." It doesn't come and she bites her lip. Has she forgotten something?

"Is there anything else you need before you leave?" she asks politely.

Miranda arches one elegant eyebrow and leans back in her chair. Then, to Andy's bewilderment, says, "Yes," and curls her finger. "Come here."


End file.
